


Found Us A Friend

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [176]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 1930s, Cat, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 20:57:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16374902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: Bucky finds the little cat on the way home from a dance.





	Found Us A Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Fluff. Prompt from this [generator](http://bleep0bleep.tumblr.com/promptsnsfw).

Bucky finds the little cat on the way home from a dance. That’s what he tells Steve, anyway. In truth, he’s been seeing the thing for a week hanging out sad and scraggly in the alley behind their building, darting in and out of the trash. More than once, he’d thought  _ I should _ but he’d never let himself finish that sentence because what the hell would he and Stevie do with a cat?

But one night, it’s two AM and he’s fucked out and still pleasantly sauced and the world has this nice glow to it, sulphur yellow light and spring air and damn if the cat isn’t sitting in front of their building, peeping out of the shadows and giving up this sad little cry.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, tongue thick and eyes heavy, “what’s the matter with you, huh?”

The cat takes a step towards him. Stops. So it only makes sense for him go down to his haunches and stretch a hand out.

“You hungry? Cold, maybe? Probably not too many nice places to sleep on the street.”

A small wet nose finds his fingers, nudges warily against the side of his hand.

“Tell you what,” Bucky says, there in the still morning dark, “you agree not to gore me when I pick you up and you can come see Steve with me. How ‘bout that? Hmm?”

He tucks her under his blazer, the good one that girls can’t wait to get him out of, and trucks her up the stairs. She keeps her end of the bargain and throws in a bonus, too: she doesn’t make a peep.

Not, that is, until they’re inside the apartment; not until Bucky’s banging through the bedroom door and hitting the light and making Steve sit up like a shot.

“What the hell?” Steve gets out, his eyes wide, his fists clenched. “Buck, god, what--?”

“Hey,” Bucky says, beaming, setting the now squirming cat at the foot of Steve’s bed. “I found us a friend.”

Later, he wonders why Steve doesn’t get angry, doesn’t even try to put up a fight; instead, he leans down in a sleepy stupor and rubs the thing’s grimy head.

“You need a bath,” Steve tells her, his mouth full of marbles. “Let’s let Uncle Bucky do that.”

Which is how Bucky ends up at the kitchen sink in his shirtsleeves, the clock ticking past three, gingerly wiping down a black ball of fluff that turns out to actually be gray. She’s very tolerant of the warm water and the damp dish towel mainly because, Bucky figures, he sings to her the whole time. There aren’t words to half it because it’s late and he’s slowly rolling down from being roasted but she seems to appreciate the notes just the same.

He dries her off and gives her two bites of leftover chicken and carries her back to bed; to Steve’s, that is. He’s asleep again, stretched out agape on his back, and the cat marches up his leg and curls her damp self on his chest and before Bucky’s down to his boxers, Steve has a hand resting on her, one delicate palm cupping her back, and both of them, somehow, are smiling.

When he wakes up, the sun’s high in the sky--god bless Sunday--and his head feels like cotton and both Steve and the cat are in bed with him, Steve warm and lithe under the covers, the cat a soft, happy stretch between their knees.

“You need a shower,” Steve tells him, nuzzling the back of his neck.

“Yeah?"

"Yeah. You stink."

"So quit sniffing me.”

Steve scratches at his stomach, blunt nails creeping up under his t-shirt. “I guess, I was thinking, since you’re dirty already, a little more mess can’t hurt.”

There’s a moan in Bucky’s throat, a noise he’d damn well be ashamed of if it were anybody but Steve. “You’re a man with a plan this morning, huh?”

“Well, you brought me a present. I’m just trying to be nice.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.” A soft, wet kiss by his ear, slim fingers diving into his shorts. “But I want.”

Bucky reaches back and clutches the back of Steve’s thigh. “Mmmm, careful. You’re gonna disturb our new little friend here.”

Steve chuckles. “If it’s gonna stay with us, it’s gonna have to get used to this, don’t you think?”

“Fuck,” Bucky says, straining to get more of Steve’s hand, “I don’t know if I’m used to it yet. And for the record, she’s a she, not an it.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve hitches his hips, gives up a hot little sound. “What are we gonna call her?”

“Can we talk about naming the cat later? Like when you’re not jerking me off?”

“Ok,” Steve says. He pulls his hand away, yanks down Bucky’s boxers, and presses their bodies together, fevered flesh against flesh. “Yeah, sure. We can do that.”   
  



End file.
